breathe me right
by januarylightsphere
Summary: "You're made of miracles, and I need miracles more than most." /30 days challenger, Portugal/NyoMacau. Day 22: In battle, side-by-side
1. holding hands

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or its characters. Himapapa does.

I know I shouldn't have started anything new, because really I have many stories going on. But I can't help it. So here it is. I'll try update everyday.

so, Portugal and Macau has apparently become my thing. I wish I could write slash, haizzz.

"Você está bem?" means 'Are you okay?' in Portuguese, I believe. Then again, my knowlegde of Portuguese is almost zero.

again, Himapapa hasn't told us anything about Portugal's personality.

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**Day 1: Holding Hands.**

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The first time she holds his hand, he's so startled that he almost pull back.

It's a late afternoon, with the sun fading with its soft orange light and the cool wind blowing through the leaves on the ground, and Portugal is standing on his ship when he sees whom he's waiting for. China is walking towards them, and even if Portugal can't see clearly the man's expression, he can tell that the older nation is looking at him in distaste. Following him is a girl in red, dark hair swaying slightly with the wind and glowing golden in the sunset. China's lips are set into a thin line as he murmurs something to her, to which she nods in response before she goes, alone, up to Portugal's place.

It makes him sad, really, to separate a young girl from her brother, but they are nations, aren't they, and they aren't supposed to get attached, even if their own family. It makes him sad to see China's back, so straight, so prideful as even though he's just given his sister to a westerner. It's when he finds a cold, sweating hands wrapping around his own, and he looks down into a pair of steady amber eyes.

There is a split second before he realises whose hand it is, and his eyes widen.

Her hands are sweating and her shoulders are shaking and it has nothing to do with the wind, but her words holds no fear:

"Please take care of me."

* * *

The second time he catches her hands, it's him that starts.

There is a boom of thunder rattled the door, rain buffeting against the pane with ferocity, and she is startled, dropping the book she's holding, forehead sweating and eyes wide and lets out a small whimper as lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating Portugal's study with an eerie light.

"Você está bem?" He asks, and Macau shakes her head immediately. Right, as if he could believe that. "Is that the storm?" At that, she goes very stiff before sending him a resentful gaze.

"So?" Her voice sounds cold and distant for a moment, and the realisation dawns on him. "You're going to think -"

"You're not silly, or ridiculous." He shakes his head, before dropping himself next to her. "It's normal for a girl." He smiles, reaching to her hands. "Here, I'll be there."

She stares at him and at their joint hands, before muttering a soft 'thank you' and pulling back.

* * *

The third time they hold hands, neither knows who has initiated, but neither really cares.

They are merely walking side by side, talking about how life are after she's come back to China and the burden of an empire has been lifted from his shoulder. He knows the path well enough - it leads to her home. Her smiles show her content, so does his heart. They are halfway through their walk when he realises his hands are holding something warm, and he has to blink repeatedly before looking down, and the memories of her cold and sweating hands flash in his mind. Now her hands are so warm. She follows his gaze, soft blush adorning her cheeks, but she makes no move to withdraw her hands.

His smile widens. They walk on.

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**notes: **please review to make me feel like I haven't made a wrong choice.

but they're the right choices, damn it!


	2. cuddling somewhere

**disclaimer: **I can't even draw. Do you think they are mine still...?

apparently, not all the chapters can be long, since I have to do the boring and evil thing called homework and exams. Yep.

super thanks to **Lady Bec of Imagineland** for reviewing, and **MissFlutterPie** for adding it into favorite.

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**Day 2: Cuddling somewhere**

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There are tangles in her hair, and that is eventually what drags her out of the clutches of sleep. She sighs softly and reaches up to feel the back of her head and opens her eyes. She can't help feeling a little stiff at the sight of a sleeping Portugal beside her, feeling the pressure of his hands on her side.

It's not like she hates cuddling, she is just never going to get comfortable with it. She isn't used to the feeling of being clung to, and isn't used to the fact that people expect you to cling right back. The problem is… Portugal absolutely loves it. He says because it doesn't require thoughts and you don't have to speak. And every time he happens to curl up with her, he always smile placidly, and - and she can't really do anything because he looks so peaceful in his sleep, with the steadiness in his breath bringing her some comfort.

That feels extraordinary good.

"Can you relax a bit?" His voice is low against her ear, running a shiver down her spine and making her completely awake. "No pillow is as stiff as you."

"What —-"

"Come back to sleep." He says, burying his face in her neck and smiles, completely pleased because of her awkwardness.

Macau sighs in defeat. She doesn't move an inch until he gets up, but she doesn't get any more sleep either.

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**note: please review!**


	3. gaming

**disclaimer: ***stare blankly to the line of horizon* if i were the owner, i wouldn't be posting it there as a mere fanfiction.

Querida means **darling** in Portuguese. Or at least it's what I think, because there is "querido". My Portuguese knowledge is about zero so I don't know for sure.

because card games can count as game, right?

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**Day 3: Gaming.**

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Portugal watches in incredulous amusement (and a little terror, if he says so himself) as Macau's golden eyes curve with her bright smile, doing nothing to hide her joy (and he isn't sure whether the dark aura radiating from her is his imagination or not.) She shuffles the cards with a professional air and he has to wonder what he has done wrong while raising her.

"Portugal." She says, handing him the deck. "I believe that it's your turn."

"Remind me again whose idea this was, so I can kick their asses."

"Oh?" The corner of her lips tug upwards. "Take a wild guess, then." A hidden 'You should have known better than play against me' is left unsaid, but it doesn't mean it helps.

"Hong Kong?" He tries, recalling all the nasty glances the boy tends to give him. (Perhaps England has done something wrong in his education, and perhaps that both of them have done something _wrong._)

Macau shakes her head. "Close, but not true. He told you, but it was my idea."

"Yours?" Oh no, this sounds horribly wrong -

"Yes. To show that I will beat anyone, even you."

"I'm off with it."

"No. We haven't had our third match -"

"Macau!" Portugal's voice sounds so scandalized that he is surprised. "You're enjoying this!"

"Of course." She replies smugly. Yes, he must have done something horribly wrong when living with her. "Come on, how old are you? It's just a game of cards. Besides, you agreed."

"I could hardly said no." _Not when you looked at me with your eyes as if I was your only savior in this world. _"That would wound my pride, querida."

She suppresses a giggle, but quickly composes herself and puts the deck in his hand.

"Your turn."

Portugal loses the third match, but it's close.

Really really close.

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**notes: **please review.


	4. on a date

**disclaimer: **I know. You know. We all know.

so, it's supposed to be a date and it turns out somewhat - erm, I donotknoweither. But the date isn't exactly beautiful.

i suppose it set after macau started to live with portugal and his other colonies, and she still disliked his gut.

thank **Isemay **for reviewing and following.

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**Day 4: On a date**

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Portugal shakes Macau awake in the middle of night, and isn't surprised to see a pair of golden eyes shooting resentful glare at him. "Come on, my girl. We need to go now, or we'll miss it."

And even though Macau is actually a morning person, she doesn't like it when being woken up suddenly.

"Go bother Brazil or Mozambique, please."

He sighs, tugging on Macau's arm. The girl snaps, raising her leg in an attempt to give him a kick on the face. He dodges with a practiced flexibility.

"Come on." He urges again. And there must be something in his voice that makes her stop, because her eyes suddenly become less irritated.

"Lead the way." She says, and keeps a good distance from him as if he was invading her personal space, which - according to her, happens a lot. "And tell me what's going on."

She is surely cranky when not having enough sleep. Portugal sighs.

"I just want to show you something outside. It's something nice." He says, with the rare sincerity.

"In the middle of night?" Macau asks. The shadow makes her expression unable to read, but Portugal knows her well enough to know that there is an eyebrow raising and a frowning at the corner of her lips. Oh, the pain of living with a teenager girl.

"There is the only time that can see it."

"Why me?" She asks again, taking the blanket and wrapping it around her. "Why not others?"

Portugal shrugs. "I can't give you an answer that I have no idea about."

Somehow, Portugal manages to persuade Macau to follow out with him. The chilly air blows around them, helping her awake a bit. This is ridiculous, and fishy - but Portugal is always hard to understand.

"You never give me the impression of someone interested in stars."

"Hm?" Portugal turns his head, a bit embarrassed. "So you've already figured it out?"

"I'm clever."

He laughs at that and comes to a stop in the top of a hills where they can see nothing but trees and a thin dark spot where their - no, _his -_ home waits.

"Can you give me your blanket?"

"And let myself get sick? No."

And - it happens before she can even register. One moment he's standing in front of her, the next she's trapped against his chest and the blanket falls down to the ground. One arm keeping her right there, his other hand starts laying out the blanket. And then they both sit down on it. She's too shocked to react. No one, no one other than China, has hugged her, let alone a strange man from a strange country with a strange personality and -

"Here, I'll keep you warm."

"What -"

"Be quiet. It's started." Portugal smiles before gesturing her to look up at the sky. A moment of nothing passes, and then a star falls, then another. The sky is filled with a rain of star as thousand of lights sear through the darkness, painting the skylines with dazzling light and brilliance. "It's beautiful, right? But the shooting star is a mere trick of light."

"Why do you want me to watch it?"

"Every star has to fall. The sky is beautiful with its false brilliance, with the burning of stars." Maybe she's getting what he's trying to say, and she doesn't like it. "So do mankind." There is a _So do I _left unsaid in his throat, because no one ever wants to predict oneself's demise.

"But they're still beautiful." She says. "Their glories may fade, but they do exist. They're worth watching."

_Like you're worth being remembered in the unforgiving river of history._

"You really think so?"

She nods, before lifting her eyes back to the sky.

It's so beautiful.

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**notes: **please review.

day 5 is on the way.

working on day 6.


	5. kisses

**disclaimer: **ME? OWN HETALIA? The joke is so funny that I can't laugh.

get on.

of course they will kiss.

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Day 5: Kisses

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"You've never been kissed before?"

Macau wonders dryly why Portugal sounds so scandalized. It's not like it's some crime. But if he continues looking her like _that, _she will give him the title 'drama queen', which is originally France's. And she wonders why she wonders this. After all, this is Portugal she's talking to, the one that taught her more about sex and sexual orientations than she ever did with China. If it were China, well — it'd be embarrassing and the old man would end up lecturing her, and complain about what those westerner had rubbed on her.

(It's because China understands perfectly what she doesn't; well, everyone knows it. Macau doesn't have to try to get attention. Her mere presence screams admiration and respect. She walks in a gorgeous walk, holding her head high like a queen and back straight like a goddess, in a world where Hungary is brave-pretty and Ukraine is soft-pretty and Taiwan is glorious-pretty and Belarus is gorgeous-pretty, she is natural-pretty, some sorts of attractiveness that isn't quite eye-catching. China understands it perfectly and he sees what Portugal is like upon seeing her change from a resentful teenager girl into an elegant young lady.)

"No, I haven't." She says, turning back to the paper. There is a casino with facilities problems, she needs to work on that. Portugal sighs, wrapping his arms around her - and completely ignores her suddenly stiff posture - and then comes the hugging, a pat on her cheeks.

"I wonder if I had been too hard with your suitors."

"I didn't have any suitors." Macau bits her lips, willing herself not to kick Portugal.

"You did. Some boys. There was that Australia boy in England's house, I think. Maybe I hadn't let you hang out more with boys and now you haven't been kissed. What should we do if some boys suddenly attacks you?"

"No one will."

"They will."

"I don't see any big deal about it."

"It is. You're pretty. Boys will chase after you. You need to be prepared. The young those days are really brash."

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?"

"Oh, querida." His voice is low and dangerous, and he's got his arms around her waist and he suddenly bends her backwards, the clipboard of paper falls out of her hands as Macau looks up at him with pure surprise. She wonders why she isn't scared (back in her mind, she knows well enough.), maybe it's because that under the light, Portugal's skin looks so smooth and, and _touchable. _Her throat is suddenly dry and she can hear her heart making a 'thud'.

"Are you sure you're not one of those 'boys'? You're an old man." She says - god, please don't make her voice sound like trembling.

He grins, before bending to kiss her, slowly and languorously, and it's hot and dangerous and completely soul stealing. He knows exactly what he's doing (and her hands curl into fist at the mere thought of him gaining his kissing experiences), how to make her weak in her knees even though he's never touched her like this. It's like Li Shangyin writing poetry with her body, like Jorge Afonso painting ideas into her mind with his touches, his hands and his mouth.

When he pulls away - the feeling of being manipulated hasn't gone - she's breathless and he flashes her a very pleased smile and she's so annoyed because she can't even get angry.

"Don't do that again." She demands. "I won't forgive you if you do."

They both know she doesn't really mean it.

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**notes: **please review.

(because nyo!macau actually likes danger than she thinks she does.)


	6. wearing each other's clothes

**disclaimer: **No, I don't own Hetalia: Axis Power. I only play with them

30 days otp challenge is more difficult than I've though.

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**Day 6: Wearing each other's clothes.**

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"What the bloody hell are you wearing?" Hong Kong asks as Macau goes down to the kitchen, all hair down and shorts and an overlarge t-shirt. She never owns a t-shirt, if he remembers correctly.

The woman doesn't answer him right away as she stretches her arms over her shoulder and Hong Kong's eyes narrow in suspicion. That shirt is slipping down her shoulder, exposing an expanse of pale skin, and emitting such a disgusting smell.

"Macau." He says, impatiently.

"This?" She points at herself, and her shoulder is still exposed and Hong Kong doesn't really want China to get a heart attack. "Ah, it's Portugal's."

No wonder why the mere sight of this shirt irritates him.

"I didn't even want to know what you two did that made the bastard, like, leave his shirt here."

"Don't call him that." She frowns, and of course, the bastard can make he go against her brother. "It's, well —-" No, please, his eyes must be deceiving him. Why the fuck are his sister blushing? "—- none of your concern, kiddo."

"You, like, should change that immediately. Go wearing some sensible clothes."

"Later. I want to eat breakfast."

"I don't think it will be a good idea to, like, let China see you in that." He glares at the shirt and her exposed skin as if they offended in him the possibly worst way. "If you want to smell him or something, do it alone in your room."

She looks at him as if he grew another head, mouth forming in an "O" shape. Finally, when she remembers how her tongue works, she lets out a string of curse in Portuguese and storms angrily back to her room.

China's voice resounds from the kitchen: "What's the matter, Hong Kong?"

"Nothing. Macau is being cranky in the morning as usual."

"Hm? She is a morning person, isn't she?

"She didn't got enough sleep yesterday."

And speaking of which, this early morning when Portugal left the house, Hong Kong thinks he saw something sparkle in the bastard's hair.

Of course, Portugal must have had the damn gut to wear her hair tie, too.

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**notes: **please review.


	7. cosplaying

**disclaimer: **I only play and make weird noises on the background, whatever it means.

the awkwardness of this chapter, i don't really know.

to be honest, i don't like this chapter much.

thank you for all the reviews and follows. I'm so happy that I can dance now.

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**Day 7: Cosplaying.**

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"You look ridiculous." Is Macau's blunt comment upon seeing the sight of Portugal in red hair, red cloak and brown boots, waving his sword around and singing the Hogwart Sorting Song.

"You wound me." He says, putting a hand on his chest to emphasize the pain. "Ridiculous? Godric Gryffindor never looks ridiculous."

She casts him a blank look before turning back to her book, digesting information requires absolute concentration and she isn't going to let him distract her more than he currently is.

—- maybe if only he could stop singing.

"I have to admit," he says. "While English food isn't what you call delicious —-"

"There are things that are edible."

"He has wonderful books. You like them too, oh my wonderfully intelligent Ravenclaw."

"What?"

"And since you're so charming and witty, just admit that I have a nice costume." He winks at her.

"As I am clearly clever," She says, there is an edge in her voice that he would like to test very much. "I can see you'll end up being an idiot."

What has she done to defy the higher power above that she has to suffer this?

"I'm not an idiot." He says, dropping himself next to her and Macau immediately moves because she knows he is going to hug her. "You will never love an idiot."

There is a moment of silence before she closes her book and gives in:

"Fine fine. I think it's time for us to start this whole insanity."

But when her look meets Portugal's one and the contrast between colours in the outfits they are wearing voids in his sudden embrace, she thinks maybe it isn't ridiculous at all.

Because they have Ravenclaw wisdom to stay happily together.

And Gryffindor courage to realise it every day and greet each other with a smile despite the distance.

"Next time, you should wear pirate clothing." She says, and Portugal gives her 'what have I done to you' look.

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**notes: **please review.

*working on day 8*


	8. shopping

**disclaimer: **No one expects the copyrights on this site, do they?

Is this really shopping? I'd like to say YES, but...

I don't know anything about 16th century. Brazil's gender remains unknow. So, which one do you want?

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**Day 8: Shopping.**

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There are noises everywhere and suffocating smell of human bodies cluster together in an enclosed space, the high-pitched voice of a woman upon finding the clothes she likes, the vicious voice of people as they eye each other as arch enemies, claws clinging with sinister determination on the same goods, the snarl of someone who is bargaining for cheaper price.

All of them make the Asian frown in distaste. Back in old days, she never went out much, and while she appreciates that Portugal leads her outside to explore, she honestly didn't expect to be in such a noisy place.

"Can we come back to the ship?" Is the first thing she can't think of. "You can Brazil can go together… I want to finish —"

"No, no." Portugal shakes his head, before rubbing her head, one of the thing she absolutely detests so much because she feels so small when he does that. "I'll buy something for you to wear. A scarf, or a gloves, because the winter is coming."

"You can choose for me."

"Don't you think it'll be awkward if you don't like it. Come on, my girl."

And this time, the ever understanding Brazil doesn't help her. "Yes, just listen to him."

After enduring all the hardship, they end up in a leather shop, where Portugal lets Macau to find some gloves she likes. "It's important to keep your hands warm." Brazil says, looking pointedly at Portugal. "You know what he's like." The stranger like warmth, Macau remembers, taking her hands in his and telling her that her hands are always nicely warm. She finally reaches a simple black ones, slips her own hands inside. It's slightly bigger, but not uncomfortable, and she's pretty sure that she will grow quickly. She meets Portugal and Brazil (who has found a trouser and it looks nice - except Portugal refuses to let Macau wear such kind of clothes. 'Chinese dresses fit you the best.' He's said.), and Portugal is drinking wine to warm himself up, much to Brazil's dismay. Macau shows the gloves to Portugal, who comes in to pay and comes out, with a green scarf.

Brazil suppresses a laugh, and Macau wonders what's so funny about it, before Portugal suddenly wraps it around her neck, looking very pleased with himself.

"It matches your dress." He says smugly, and Brazil whispers in her ear.

"The old man likes to make others look nicer."

Apparently, Portugal hears them, and he has the tendency to look sheepish. Macau doesn't say anything as she touches the scarf, it's soft and cold against her skin. Portugal rubs her head again, she immediately avoids the contact as usual, but there is an unprecedented surge of warmth inside of her, and even the cool wind of autumn doesn't seem matter anymore.

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**notes: **himapapa please designs brazil.

please review.


	9. hanging out with friends

**disclaimer: **i dreamt of owning it yesterday, but it's a dream.

so, girls-hanging-out and what not.

So, today International Day of Happiness. Happiness to all of you!

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**Day 9: Hanging out with friends. **

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"Well —" Taiwan's eyes are sparkling, and Macau has a really bad feeling about it. "First thing first, is Portugal good in bed?"

There is a choking sound from Vietnam, and Japan looks petrified as if the younger female has said something incredibly rude. And as far as Macau concerns, it is. (Maybe Japan is wondering what she has done wrong to make Taiwan become like this, but Macau doesn't really care.)

"Taiwan!" Vietnam reprimands, but Taiwan pays her no mind as she continues to question Macau.

"Is he?"

"It's —-"

"No, no, I don't want the details." Vietnam says, looking like she's going to bang her head against the table. "Macau, please don't answer."

"It's not like I want descriptions." Taiwan pouts. "It's just a simple yes-no question."

"Excuse me…"

"Japan, you have to stay."

"Taiwan-san…"

"After her, it'll be you. And you can't escape." Taiwan smiles, ignoring the horrified expression on Japan's face. "Is he, Macau?"

"I'm not talking about it." She may or may not be blushing, but Macau keeps her eyes fixed on her drink.

"Oh come on. Just think it's like giving me an early birthday present, and then you don't have to get me anything. And if you do, I don't mind, because you should give it to me."

"So demanding." Macau mutters, trying her best not to scold at her sister.

"So demanding?" Of course, Taiwan has to interpret in the possibly wrongest way. "So, he is good, like what I've expected."

"I didn't say anything!"

"I heard you."

"I'm talking about you!"

"You don't even deny it!"

"She does have a point here."

Macau sends a resentful look to Vietnam, but the older woman shrugs her shoulder.

"And it's a reason why I don't want to spend time with you, Taiwan." Macau groans. "You're like an annoying bug."

"An annoying bug that you love." Taiwan smiles impossibly brightly and Macau covers her face with one hand.

In order to hide her smile, of course.


	10. with animal ears

**disclaimer: **i can't even draw without crying.

new fact: Portugal isn't with machine.

(and England says 'if you ally yourself with me i'll take care of it' and Portugal is like 'sure, count on you' and their longest alliance in this world is formed.)

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**Day 10: With animal ears. **

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"Pfff - hahahaha!"

"It's not THAT funny!"

"Yes it is, querida, it is."

Macau makes a face as Portugal continues to fail to hide his laughter. But how can he, with those large ears glued to his _girl _(ehem)'s head. He knows who did that instantly, but let him appreciate it for a moment.

"You've earned my contempt." Macau's face is pink from both anger and embarrassment. "Congratulations. It has been a long time since the last time I hated your gut that much." If you ask, she'll say that waking up with fox ears in your head isn't the best thing to feel in the morning.

"Really?" He asks, one hand moves in attempt to pull her into a hug - she avoids it. "I know you know you can't hate me."

"There are things you don't know." She says, shooting him a glare that contains as much contempt as possible. "I seriously hate you now."

Portugal's smile falls, and instantly, Macau feels bad. He mumbles.

"But I think you look cute." He looks so rejected. "Alright, I'll tell England to —-"

"Hold on. I can, you know, wear it for a day… if you like." Her voice gets smaller and smaller and Portugal pretends not to hear, continuing to muttering to himself.

"Of course now you're grown up and all, you must hate being cute —-"

"I'll just deal with it today, alright?"

Portugal's face lightens up.

"Really?"

"But you will have to tell England to change me back tomorrow," She says with a tone of finality, "and also, tell him that if he wants to curse someone, be careful with it."

"I know you don't hate me!" This time, his arms finally capture her in a half hug. He chuckles. "Ah, you look so cute."

"I'm not a child." It's weird, she thinks as she escapes from Portugal's grasp, trying to fiddle with the new attachment. But Portugal has always been quicker and slyer, so he leans down and whispers an apology in her ears - as if he hasn't been telling her the same over and over again ever since - before walking off to make a phone call.

She doesn't even have to ask what he said to England, because Portugal is wearing a satisfied expression on his face, the one he always has after threatening someone.

* * *

**notes: so, day 10 already. **


	11. wearing kigurumi

**disclaimer: **all i do is running around. fortunately, no one shoots me.

so.

back to the fact that portugal allies himself with england because he's not with with machine - portugal, did you even try? or the thing you're trying to repair has already broken beyond belief?

possibly the latter.

* * *

**Day 11: Wearing kigurumi.**

* * *

One morning, Portugal signs for a package that is delivered to Macau's house. There are Japanese printings on the cardboard, and Portugal has to eye it cautiously. He knows his England's Japanese girlfriend sometimes can be mischievous to the scary level. What if it's a thing to prank Macau?

But the postcard says 'as you requested', that means Macau probably knows it. He calls her:

"Macau, Japan sends something to you."

"Really?" Her head pops out from the kitchen. "It's finally here." She claps her head, and doesn't meet his eyes as she takes the package and walks a little too quickly to her bedroom. Oh, something weird is going on.

He waits for ten minutes before knocking the door, "What're you doing?"

"Nothing!" She squeaks. Yes, definitely suspicious.

"Macau, open the door, now."

"There is nothing wrong!" She says from inside, sensing exactly what he's thinking. "It's just… promise me you won't laugh."

He blinks. What?

"O-Okay. Can you come out?"

Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds, he will kick the door —

The door opens, with Macau revealing to him what was inside the Japanese package.

"What is that," He asks, flabbergasted at what he's looking at. Standing in front of him with her most awkward expression, Macau is dressed in some sort of hooded onesie that has a look of a teddy bear with light brown fur and white belly. The hood is currently pulling over her hair being where the ears and the eyes are. He notices the eyes are rather big.

"Kigurumi." She mutters, cheeks pink and voice soft. "I… I think it's cute, so I kind of want to show you. It's not that I like being cute in front of you or anything! Don't you dare laughing!"

He's smiling, though, twirling her hair with his fingers. "It's perfect." He says, hot breath against her cheeks and Macau, as usual, goes very stiff to keep her knees from going weak. "You'll definitely make the most comfortable pillow in the world."

* * *

**notes: **i'm dread thinking of next week.


	12. making out

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

**I don't even know if I write the prompt right.**

* * *

**Day 12:** **Making out. **

* * *

Somehow, they end up kissing on the couch. Her cold foot press against his shin, his hands in her hair, and somewhere between kissing the spot under her ear (she goes very still at this, which almost makes him laugh before her hands are feeling at his shirt, looking for a handhold.) that he realises the way it is making him feel is actually worth getting killed by China. She breathes in, a shaking pleased hum, and he laughs. She kicks him in the shin, eyes hazy and she looks so beautiful that it feels like a crime if he stops now.

"You're out of breath." He says instead (because he can't do something stupid now, right?), before clambering off her and stands up, and she gets out a groan. "Want a drink?"

Her lips are red and her eyes are still hazy, making his throat tighter, but no - it's not the time.

"No." She shakes her head. "I want to sleep. The bed sounds like a better choice than wine. Portuguese wine."

"Does it mean we can share one bed?"

He's intended to make it a joke, he's expected she'll 'hmp' and tell him to stop. She's looking at him with one eye open and replies: "Fine. It's better than fine, actually."

"You're sure?" He asks, just in case.

"It's just a bed. One night. It's not like I haven't done it before." _But you're not a little girl anymore, _he thinks but he lets her take charge and manhandles him into her room before dropping herself on the beg not so elegantly and gestures him to be quick.

"Always take the right side of the bed, as usual." He says fondly, pressing a kiss against her temple and Macau grumbles something under her breath which sounds suspiciously like 'go to sleep, please.'

It doesn't take long for Macau to turn her body and nudges closer to him, her hair tickling his nose. Of course, she makes the best pillow, as usual.

* * *

**author note:** if I don't update daily, does that mean I've failed the challenger?


	13. eating ice cream

When Portugal arrives to Macau's house, the sight that greets him is a little ridiculous (and more endearing). A little nostalgic, too and if Macau was a human being, he'd think she was pregnant, with the way she's bundled in a blanket - the one with lavender pattern, mind you - hair down and sweeps over the floor, and eating that sickeningly sweet mess of an strawberry ice cream straight out of the tub with a ladle.

"Macau." She doesn't even look up at him. "What are you doing?"

"Eating ice cream, isn't that obvious?"

"Are you okay? I didn't know missing him has made you become like that."

She shoots him an annoyed look. "It's cold and I don't want to go to China's house and I want to eat ice cream so I am doing this."

Portugal thinks about it, and the shrugs. "Well, okay. It's perfectly fine." Except that it's freezing cold out there, Macau.

"Of course. Now I'm just colder and I have been run out of ice cream and this is unacceptable."

He really wants to ask if she did have the women's monthly problem.

Another moment of silence before Portugal slowly turns and opens the door.

"Where are you going?"

Pause.

"I'm going to get your more ice cream." Just do whatever she wants before she explodes and kicks him.

"No." She announces sharply.

Portugal sighs. She's being ridiculous. "Macau..."

"I'm cold. Sit with me."

Never mind the fact that she's lying on the couch and there is no space left for him? But he does that anyway, and maybe she's in a good mood too, because he manages to get the last spoonful of it, and another spot under the blanket. He is, indeed, a very lucky man.

* * *

**notes: **maybe no update tomorrow because of exam.

I will not fail the challenger, will I?


	14. genderswapped

**disclaimer: **I neither own Hetalia nor the meaning of the card. How sad is it?

so, day 14, genderswapped. it's hard, really, considering that this fic is genderswapped itself.

oh, never mind.

* * *

She stares at the calendar hanging loosely on the wall and thinks to herself, there is only one day left. She takes a drag of cigarettes, blowing the smoke slowly and smirks a little when the image of an annoyed England ("This thing is harmful." He's said, looking at the thing in distaste. "That's why I gave up smoking."). Still, there is something appealing to her about the way the smoke floats and dissolves in thin air - it's a certain reminder of the fact that nothing will last forever. And she sips a little wine. Her morning starts like this and she spends the whole day drinking or sleeping or doing something that she can forget entirely the next day. A cycle. Sometimes, when she suddenly wakes up in the early morning, she finds someone sitting near her, but she doesn't say anything and that person will leave. No one stays.

It's so pathetic that she feels like laughing at herself. She thinks of the day when someone stayed when she was gentle woken up and she was complaining before her face broke into smile. Everyone had left, but she still had him. Then, the happiness was quickly replaced with fear and regret and bitterness - fear because she was going to collapse (like every empire before her), regret because she had grown too attached to him (which she - or any nations for that matter - shouldn't have, to their kind.), bitter because she knew he was going to leave and she'd be left behind (oh, she knew that day would come, she always did.) But she kept pretending like nothing was happening, and he played along with her because she knew he didn't want to hurt her.

\- except pretending brought one nowhere.

"I have to go back." Was the first thing he said on the last morning he saw him. And frankly, Portugal wasn't surprised.

That didn't mean she took it well.

"So soon?" Her voice was so weak that she absolutely despised it.

"You've always known."

She burst out laughing and didn't remember anything afterwards because there were a lot of crying and yelling and cursing and maybe she did clutch at the collar of his shirt and tell him please not to leave, tell him that he was the last one that could stay by her side. Maybe he did patiently tell her that she'd get over it, because when she wasn't the Portuguese Empire anymore, there would be less burden. 'Look at the bright side.' He said.

She starts smoking and drinking and even England - who has been patient with her for more than six hundred years - has had enough of her.

"Get a hold of yourself, damn it!" He shouts at her. "You're a country. You're Portugal. It's just a fall! Look at me, Portugal! I've been through the same pain, I've gone through it all! I can rise, so can you!"

(She thinks about his words every morning but ends up cancelling it at the end of the day. A cyc -

oh, not really.)

She opens the door to sign the delivery, and wonders who on earth could send her a gift. There is no sender, but the delivery man smiles at her and she immediately whom it came from. There is nothing in it, except for a single poker card. Queen of Diamonds.

/The path for the Queen of Diamond is a hard one - so beset with difficulties and obstacles - they are continually sapped of strength as they struggle to overcome one thing after the other./

She stares at it, long and hard, before putting the wine bottle in the kitchen counter and grabs her jacket.

Oh, how she misses fresh air.

* * *

**note: **no more update this week because the heavy schedule.


	15. in a different clothing style

**I am back.**

**Hopefully I haven't failed yet. **

* * *

**Day 15: In different clothes**

* * *

"You don't have to get me anything." Macau protests weakly as Portugal drags her with him. It will be more powerful if she just stops following him shamelessly.

"I can always get you everything." He says, "especially now you've just confessed your undying love -"

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did, young lady." He draws out the word and as much as she hates to admit it, she prefers 'young lady' to 'my little girl.'. "We must do something to make it official."

Macau rolls her eyes. "I'd like a date in a cozy restaurant, with food. Thank you very much."

"And you'll force me to go casino with you? No, come, stop denying people who do nice things to you."

"But -"

_You have always been doing nice things for me -_

"No but. This is for both of us." He smiles at her, winking, and Macau has an uneasy feelings.

* * *

"No. Just no." There is the horrified note in her voice, and he just ignores it, stopping her from walking out of the shop by grabbing her shoulder, turning her back to face all short of frilly shirts, with every kind of dramatic colors - the sorts of clothes that she's been avoiding.

"Ah, but Macau, it will be fun."

"Isn't this kind of thing is for women?" She has to think of an escape, quick. "It isn't appealing, Portugal."

"No, wounding my pride will lead you to nothing. Just try on something. Don't you want to look nice when we go out? I'd like to, you know."

"You mean I normally don't look nice?"

"Nah, you always look pretty pretty nice, princess. Maybe after that, you can pick something for me too. Is this fair?"

She shoots him her most withering glare.

"You just don't know to give up, do you?"

He grins before starting to pull her into the first racks of clothes.

* * *

"Are you feeling cold, Macau?" Portugal glances at his female company, who is standing awkwardly behind him with a pair of high heels (she wears slippers all the time, it shouldn't be that bad, right?) and a white dress that doesn't reach to her knees. (okay, he admits he wants to show off because damn it Spain, my girlfriend is prettier than yours.) Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but it isn't a frown before she speaks.

"No, I have a jacket on."

Portugal eyes the blue jacket, cuffed at her elbows before nodding to himself. "Everything looks good on you."

He has the feeling that she wants to smile so badly but has to remind herself to keep cool. "You just say it because you picked it."

"I still thought the blue dress looked better on you -"

"It shows too much skin!"

"And the pink one..."

"Anything but pink!"

"I haven't finished! I mean, pink doesn't look good on you, because it will make you too girly and my princess is incredibly strong."

"Flattering me won't get you anything." She says, but there is a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Because when an annoyingly stupid boyfriend dresses his girlfriend in all embarrassing clothing, no girl can be happy."

"Did you just call me your boyfriend?"

"Your old ear must have misheard."

"I am not as old as your brother, aren't I? Now, which restaurant do you want to go?"


	16. morning ritual

**Day 16: Morning Rituals**

* * *

The alarm goes off at five fifty-five AM.

Of course, she's already awake. She's been awake for hours because she hardly needs sleep anymore (or maybe she just doesn't like the state of sleeping, when it is the most convenient for dreams to take over. And besides, to them, sleeping is just an act of maintaining their bodies, because they can't die even if they don't sleep, just exhausted.), sitting on the edge of the bed gripping that edge with both hands, gripping it has hard as she can until all her body screams in protest. Sitting very still, staring at the blank wall and trying her best not to look at the clock, or the calendar.

Trying. Falling.

The alarm goes off at five fifty-five AM. And she relaxes a little and doesn't grimace at the sharp pain shooting down her spine to her very nerves, and it scares her - the method no longer has the same effect, it seems, but how... how can she forget if there is no pain to distract her every morning? (There used to be a hand that smoothed her hair every morning, and she'd scowl and toss it aside -) She reaches out to turn of the shrilling noise that is giving her so much headache, before standing up to open her wardrobe (there used to be soothing voice that woke her up, annoyingly warm and refreshing.)

"You look the best in Chinese clothes." He used to say, so Macau takes one from her wardrobe and puts it on, to present herself as good as possible in front of everyone. There are bags under her eyes, it seems, she has to make up later. He will be very disappointed if she appears messy, for he always tells - told - her to be in her best shape when dealing with business.

She opens her drawer, taking the bottle of wine and drinks it (there is no need for breakfast, she thinks, because Portugal makes the best wine) before smoothing her clothes.

There are a lot of work today.

* * *

**notes: **i have been feeling off lately, must be because of exams.

of course macau will think Portuguese wine is the best, i like them too, but i still prefer french wine.

...

...

or south korean wine.

...

Screw it, I LIKE GIN!


	17. spooning

Macau wakes up with a start when she feels a dip in the mattress and if it wasn't for something warm pressing against her back, she would definitely raise her leg and give _that __someone _a good kick. She feels hair brushing the back of her neck, and she says through gritted teeth. "Finally decides to come to bed? What time is it?"

"Don't know. Maybe past four." He mumbles against her neck.

That explains why she isn't feeling well.

"Just sleep." She groans, shutting her eyes and burying her face into the pillow. "You'll be dead in the morning, I promise."

Hair tickles against her neck - she knows that guy has the gut to smile! - and Portugal's arms tighten around her waist, and it takes him a few minutes to settle himself against her. Macau lets out a suffering sigh, before shifting herself in a more comfortable position. How dare he interrupt her in her sleep? How dare he stay up so late? Does he know how difficult it is to get back to sleep - but Portugal's breathing is slowing down and even out, and Macau groans because she can't get angry like she wants before making up her mind to follow him into sleep.

She wakes up in the morning with Portugal's arms still draping loosely around her. He's still sleeping, figure, but this position is not (repeat not) comfortable. She moves, his arms tighten.

"You..." Her lips twitch and she tucks under his one arm to face him. "... are you awake?"

He grunts and holds her tighter. "Sleep."

"It's almost noon. We have to get up."

"I don't want to."

"Fifty more minutes."

"But it's cold outside."

She thinks about it for a moment. "Fine. We don't have to go out. But I don't like lying too long on bed."

"How about the couch?" He winks at her, earning a sign before she decides to cuddle with him a bit closer.


	18. doing something together (stargaze)

**notes: **i know nothing about the stars.

* * *

To say that Macau isn't pretty is like saying America is the oldest nation in the world or like saying Portugal isn't the most long-lasting empire (and Portugal is pretty sure that China and he will both punch someone dares say she isn't pretty - how dare they?). It just doesn't happen, and it will never happen. Because she is Macau, she is his little (not anymore, he reminds himself) princess, she always smiles in a pleasant way, and her dark hair always sways with the wind... sometimes like a tornado. She's starry eyes and laughter and lotuses and lavenders. She's a masterpiece of living, and it is impossible (at least for him) not to keep her smiling.

And Portugal likes the fact that sometimes she's not that overwhelmed as she appears to be.

Portugal goes up to the rooftop of his house one breezy spring night just to fight her sitting there, hugging her knees, his telescope forgotten nearby. (She's brought it there and she's abandoned it?), her head raising and her eyes fixing on the vast expense of dark blue sky.

"How is your stargazing?" He feels himself smiling, but his voice is gentle in order not to disturb the pretty picture.

She doesn't even turn to look at him. "Do you want to join?"

He shrugs and drops himself next to her: "Why aren't you using the telescope?" Maybe he shouldn't mention that she's forced him to bring it up there.

She sighs, stretching her arms before replying. "I don't know... maybe because it will make me remember the time with China." He doesn't like it when she talks about China, but she misses her brother (something he sometimes envies her) and he doesn't, can't, stop her. "Don't get me wrong. I love your telescope. It is probably one of the most amazing things I've seen, but..." She ponders, as if thinking of the right word to say. "I think... the stars are too beautiful to be peered up at through a tiny hole."

Portugal smiles. "I sort of understand."

"You know everything." She huffs.

"I don't know you admire me that much."

She shoots him a look before pointing up: "What do you call this star in Portuguese?"

"Oh, it is -"

Portugal likes those moments because here, she isn't the Portuguese Macau, she isn't the girl who dreams of her homeland everyday, she isn't the girl torn between staying with him or China, she is just his little princess, when she is the loveliest.


	19. in formal wear

**day 19 already, yay!**

* * *

"I really dislike party." Macau complains, and judging by the look on her face, she's close to exploding because of the formal air.

"No, you don't." Of course, it's always his job to calm her down. "And princess, it isn't a party. It's more like a dinner." He continues, in an unsure tone and he knows she doesn't buy it because she sniffs her nose and deadpans:

"Sure, a big, fancy and too much light dinner. Honestly, you expect they hold a dinner to celebrate the success of World Cup?" He has the feeling that she wants to ask 'why am I here with you?' but she's too considerate of him to say anything. She dislikes party and she may blame him for dragging her here, but she will never say it in front of so many people.

"Come on." Portugal smiles, tries to soothe her annoyance, "We'll go home in ten more minutes, how about that? Your scowl is ruining your dress." With that, he makes a call to tell the valet to bring out the car.

Macau sighs, reaching to fix his tie (were he anyone but Portugal, he'd definitely be taken back - Macau has a strange ability that makes people feel the ghost of her finger once she touches them.). "Your tie is crooked." She mutters. "Honestly, how old are you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I'm getting old. But don't you think it'd be nice to have someone fix my tie?"

She smiles. "You don't have to." Because she knows he wears clothes designed for durability. "Here you are."

There is something warm in her chest when he presses a kiss to the back of her hand as a thank, and for a moment, Macau kind of wishes they'd stay like this forever.


	20. dancing

**day 20, but i don't see any dancing. Gosh what's wrong with me. **

* * *

The umbrella, after its struggle to survive, has finally breaks in half when they are on halfway home. Macau stares at Portugal, he shrugs, it's not like a little rain can ruin their clothes or make them sick - that doesn't mean it's comfortable, but they can always warm up afterwards.

... or maybe they don't need to wait really.

"Princess." Portugal suddenly calls her name, and before Macau has a chance to ask him what is the problem, he's picked her up and swung her around. Macau grasps at the sudden weightlessness in his arms, her heart swooping and pounding (and for some reasons, it isn't because she's been startled, especially when Portugal is smiling so brightly.) He sets her down gentle and then spins her under his arm - is he trying to dance in the rain? - and then before she catches her breath, he pulls her closer. "Ah, it does bring back some good memories."

"I don't see being soaked brings up good memories." She says, but not angrily because she remembers he used to pick her up like that too, swing her around until she was all dizzy and had to yell at him to put her down. She's always wondered where he gets that strength from.

"I think we should do this more often." He says still, swaying them back and forth.

She thinks about it for a moment -

"Mm. Just warn me first next time."

* * *

**day 21 is on the way, i believe. **


	21. baking

There are flour all over her green dress, and Portugal, unsurprisingly, finds it incredibly endearing. Baking is something she's really good at (not as good as China, he thinks, but while China's food hardly contains love for Portugal, Macau's has too much.), and something she has fun doing (another thing is stargazing, but it's not the case here.) He likes to watch her. He can't really help much, because she always sends him a glare and tells him to let her do it herself, or 'please go prepare wine'.

Okay, he admits, he isn't really good at baking.

... Kind of like now.

Macau's using her hand to suppress her laughter, and Portugal tries his best not to groan - he knows he's set the mixer too high, that's why the batter has flown out in all directions, including on her. But she is in such a good mood because of his misery that she doesn't really mind, in fact, she finds it amusing.

"Sorry," he sighs, but she shakes her head before wiping her face with the napkin.

The scent of the first batch of cookies fills the kitchen, and she looks at him, eyes full of merriment and says: "Maybe getting it out of the oven is your thing."

* * *

**note: **why do i have the feeling that it gets shorter and shorter?


	22. in battle, side-by-side

**disclaimer: **you know the drill.

why the hell did it become sort of Macau/Brazil?

* * *

Macau watches in horror as Portugal falls in front of her. No sense of time, no sense of color, everything is as slow as they can get when her eyes widen and her legs tremble. Something is tugging at the back of her mind, urging her to tell them to stop - but this, Portugal's said to her, Brazil has every rights to do it.

She should have stopped him, that's the only thought that is replaying in her mind, she should have stopped them. Brazilian army can be fighting the Portuguese out there, but they're family and isn't Portugal sort of father figure to Brazil? (She isn't even a country, Portugal has been protecting her, China has been protecting her, she feels the pain of her citizen, but she isn't a country. There are differences between a nation and an administrative region. And something, deep in her core, is telling her that is necessary, that is the only way to freedom and yes, _you should be as brave as Brazil.)_

Portugal's body hits the floor with a sickening thud, and Brazil is panting, before dark eyes glance towards her, soften for millisecond before asking:

"Will you follow me?"

Portugal snaps his head up, looking at her as if she didn't know she is here.

She looks at Brazil, lips set in lines and fist clenching.

If she follows Brazil...

She may be able to come back to her home.

She may be able to come back to her family, her brothers and her sisters.

She may be able to come back to her citizens.

Isn't that what she wanted when she first came here?

Just a nod and she can -

She shakes her head.

"I'll stay."

Because Portugal is her family too. And Brazil, his most adored child, is going to leave.

Brazil frowns, before opening the door and walk away.

"Fine."

(As she gazes after Brazil's back, she can't help thinking maybe Brazil understands her better than anyone else.)

* * *

**note: **have just learnt about Brazilian War of Independence.

I hope I don't commit any crimes.

will correct all the spelling mistakes later.


End file.
